


Prowess

by lilith_babylon



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: ALL THE KINKS, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Kink Meme, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Telepathic Sex, Tentacles, Voyeurism, mild dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilith_babylon/pseuds/lilith_babylon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and River try to get the TARDIS on board with bedroom bondage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prowess

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a kinkmeme request of the Doctor receiving the blow job of his life. Do heed the warnings; this one's basically all the kinks.

The TARDIS knew many things. She was vastly experienced in translating the Doctor's four-dimensional perceptions through their psychic link into her eleven-dimensional consciousness. She sang to River as well, of course, but the ship's connection to her pilot was much more precise. In addition to his full Time Lord biology that was loomed with symbiosis to a TARDIS matrix in mind, the two of them also had cultivated their link over seven centuries. It was the difference between the potential in a fallow wilderness, and the precise geometric designs of a stepped garden. River was an unfettered child of Time; the Doctor was the key to unlocking both their experiences and translating them to the TARDIS' alien continuity. So the TARDIS had this strange family, and she buzzed happily in the backs of their minds as they had adventure after adventure. 

But she did not, they discovered, quite understand bedroom bondage. 

After the fourth time the intense psychic feedback thrashed both of their minds at once during the attempt to make use of fuzzy pink handcuffs, River sat back, rubbing furiously at her forehead right above her twitching left eye, and said, "Sweetie, we have to do something about this."

The Doctor hadn't said anything--well, not that he could with the gag still in place despite the lack of pink fuzzy handcuffs--but he'd thought about it. Over the next few days he'd probed the corners of their link, trying to help his ship understand the appeal of practices the discussion of which still caused this regeneration to outwardly blush (though it was becoming less clear even to him whether that reaction was merely an affectation). He searched and prodded and coaxed and listened, and after about a week the two of them had reached, if not an understanding, at least a plan. The Doctor encouraged her precision, River fueled her passion, and the TARDIS created a room.

So here they were. River and the Doctor, trailing their fingers along long-dormant corridors, following the brush of sensation against their minds--curious, anticipating, and (always always always) unfathomably powerful. They were fully cognizant that this endeavor was rather like giving a feather-toy to a pet lion, that was enthusiastic and loving, but that could break you apart with one unknowing swipe of a paw. Of course, if there was one thing the Doctor and River ever had in common, it was an affinity for danger. They were of one mind in this cognizance, and by the time they reached the door the TARDIS obviously meant for them, that mind was having difficulty focusing past the fact that it was incredibly aroused.

The room was dimly lit, warm with dense air that clung uncomfortably to their clothing. They shed it obediently, toeing off shoes, watching each other hungrily as fingers worked at buttons, straps, zips. He fumbled with the button on his trousers, his stomach muscles taut and strained, angles disappearing down behind the stubborn fabric; static spiked in both their heads as she reached out to help him along. The TARDIS knew River's intentions, and they both understood the reaction implicitly. _No touching, not yet._ Fabric pooled on the floor and they stepped forward into the room. He was half-hard already, his eyes hooded and intense. She was breathing heavily, her breasts sensitive and aching around hardened nipples.

The walls were comprised of intricate, interconnecting strands of pinkish, pliable material, outlined here and there by smooth metallic sheaths in the form of caps, joints and segments. The door closed and sealed behind them. As they watched, two coils unraveled at the far wall, falling down from the low ceiling and curling like beckoning fingers. 

River looked over at the Doctor. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked. The air swallowed the sound. The link prickled in the backs of their minds.

He just smiled at her and gave a short, silent laugh--it was far too late for regrets, and anyway he had none. He stepped forward, turning around with his back flush to the wall, and offering his hands up to the coils. They reacted immediately to his touch, wrapping around his wrists, snaking back up across his palms and inviting him to grasp them as they secured his hands in place. He took a breath and closed his eyes, focusing inwardly on the fine psychic filaments that linked his mind to his ship's. The coils raised, immobilizing his hands above his head, and he concentrated on a translation. His hands would not move, but instead his mind would trace the desire down the link: _touch, hold, squeeze, caress._

He exhaled and looked down to see River sitting on her heels in front of him. Obedient, she was waiting for his signal, but the look in her eyes belied her passivity. His groin ached; his cock twitched as he watched River clench her hands at her sides, restraining herself through will alone, waiting. In that way, he had the easier task. Coils tickled his feet and snaked around his ankles and he translated again: _kneel, shift, lie. Run._ Then, soft strands twined through his hair, and cold metal fingers cupped the back of his skull, trailing delicately across the sensitive erogenous zone behind his ears and causing his cock to throb. His only reaction was a short gasp, lips parted. His last sight of River was passive supplication--her eyes closed, her mouth capturing her bottom lip in a moistening foretaste--before the alien grasp forced his head up and stilled him. It was not enough for discomfort, but enough that his view was restricted only to the ceiling and the top of the far wall. He tested the limits of his range of vision and saw only more of the same. River was silent, a directive they both could feel from the strange impressions of the TARDIS' consciousness in their minds.

The Doctor closed his eyes. The wall alternated sensation at his back and buttocks; warm and soft where the fleshy coils braided together unencumbered, smooth and cold and unyielding where they were sheathed by metallic links and caps. His arms were held fast, his feet were planted and his head was cradled, motionless. He could still hear River's quiet breaths. He could smell her arousal, taste the tang of her sweat in the damp air. He translated again. He would not see, but would envision: _River's eyes. The curve of her breasts. Her shock of curls, above and below. Her hands at his hips. Her inviting mouth, taking him in, please. Please._

They were ready. The Doctor's words were hardly more than a whisper, amplified in the room. "Activate voice interface." 

A flicker of light responded as the avatar coalesced, but he was blind to its source. He heard River suck in a breath. Then a new voice shot through the silence, and the Doctor's hands jerked reflexively at the coils, his head swam as he wondered if there was a malfunction or a mistranslation, or if it was just that his ship was idly destroying her new feather-toy.

"Voice interface enable-- . . . Oh. Oh, you sentimental old fool." The Master gave an amiable laugh. "You _didn't._ "

***

"You made _me_ into a voice interface? You know, I think I'd much prefer to be myself in any incarnation. I suppose since I've gone and left you at the end of the universe, it's up to me to adjust this programming. And--oh." There was a pause as though the apparition was studying its surroundings; then the laugh intensified. "Well, well, well. What have we here?"

"That--" the Doctor started. 

"Quiet," came the order. The tendrils tightened their hold on his wrists, and new grips wrapped over his hip bones, the whole of them curling and squeezing, threatening the integrity of blood flow to hands and . . . other places. The Doctor shut up.

 _That was supposed to be a failsafe._ Already attuned, he instead shot the thought down the link. He hadn't been quite sure who to expect--Jack Harkness perhaps, or even a version of himself that could stand mutely aside, watching and listening for the safe word he _thought_ they all had agreed upon. The TARDIS apparently had other ideas. He could feel her examining this communication, turning it over in her multi-dimensional cortex before dismissing it. She hummed back an idea, the edges of which were the buzz of excitement thrumming through the tiniest of fine filaments, and an instantaneous and comprehensive exploration of the temporally transcendental implications of _trust._

He heard River give a snort of what he thought might be agreement. She trailed cool fingers down his abdomen and he shuddered, feeling the twist of timelines inside her, how they resonated so deeply with the TARDIS that even she could never hope to understand their link. She was River; of course, always. No more and no less. 

"And who might this be, sweetie?" she asked innocently. "It's not quite the TARDIS, is it?"

There was a breath of over-long silence, but the Doctor knew better than to answer. He didn't need to see the avatar; he knew exactly who it was, down to the cut of his suit and the pinpoint location of their history. It was the maddest of his selves, the one dressed in mind and body as Harry Saxon--clean-cut, debonair and deadly. The one best at setting traps, and this one was a master stroke. 

"My dear, gorgeous woman," the interface said hungrily. "I am the Master, and you will obey me."

River just laughed. "Why ever would I do that? You can't touch me. You can't touch anything. Look at you; you're all talk." 

"Because," the voice was a whisper at the Doctor's ear. And this wasn't a Time Lord at his side--there should have been no breath of _contact,_ no trace of temporal sense in the words. But echoing down the link was the hint of something like himself but not--a strange adsorption of words that fit in and filled empty places, so, so intimately. The Doctor's mouth went dry, and the truth of the next words was already evident in his growing, aching cock. He could hear the smile in the Master's low tones. "Talk is all I need to make him come."

River's hands jolted a new touch on his thighs, her grasp tightening as she murmured a hum of appreciation. The Doctor hitched a breath, and the voice at his ear turned to cold steel. "Not a sound from you," the Master growled. "And you, my dear. It's high time you put that mouth to work. You--what was--oh, no, wait. I lied." The whisper at his ear was silken and smooth again. "One word from you, just one. The name of your delectable, eager friend down there."

The voice at his ear, the hands holding his hips--her hair brushing his cock, the cradling heat of her neck and shoulder against it as her lips traveled the curve of his stomach--the ship's link living between them all, pulsing pure need in all directions through his psyche . . . the Doctor had already laid himself bare in the face of all three of them, and he could do nothing now but accept his role. _"River"_ , he gasped aloud, the name sent dutifully down the link, as he submitted to the tri-fold correlation of will and sensation surrounding him. 

"River," said the Master. "I want to see you suck his cock."

Warm wetness engulfed him, lips marking a depth chart in wave after wave, circling untouched flesh at each crest, and god, it was dizzying and perverse and glorious.

"That's right." The wall writhed with the Master's words, as though testing the limits of their covariate mind. "Every inch of that cock is yours, and you're going to take it. You're going to give it the ride of its life. Oh, you should see her face, Doctor. She won't stop until I say so. She'll suck you so hard there'll be no stars left for you to see. She'll work it all out of you." 

Lower and lower, River inched over him, her mouth moving forward, tongue flicking from side to side like a coin sinking obliquely by degrees into a still pond. Her hungry licks lapped at his underside in rhythm with each new lunge, the top of him sliding past the roof of her mouth down into her soft throat, and still she wanted more--

"God I want to fuck her," the Master said. River moaned, vibrations swirling through the Doctor like electricity and pooling deep in his gut, her fingers pressing five indentations on each side into his thighs as she marched her mouth down around his cock--so impossibly huge and thick and hard in his senses, he had no idea how anyone could take it in. His balls clenched tight like a fist against his arse, his body wound up like a spring on a precipice, and still the Master continued. "I want to slide my fingers inside her, work her over as she continues this expert conquest of hers. Warm her up and plunge into her. I bet she doesn't miss a beat on your end. All she wants to do is swallow this pole of flesh until she feels it all the way through. Fucking her like this, now, it's almost like seconds, isn't it? She'll come just from thinking about it, she'll come twice before we've even started--" 

He couldn't help it. A moan escaped the Doctor's lips, a tiny whimper as his hands and toes curled, his hips tried vainly to thrust forward, and immediately the Master barked, " _stop!_ ".

River disappeared, leaving his thighs aching and his cock wet and exposed, chill even in the warm room. Tendrils clacked and tightened viciously in his hair, yanking his head back and shooting a strange mix of pleasure and pain across his scalp. The coils tightened, threading down to his throat and threatening his airway, reminding him of the rest of the body that was currently attached to his swollen, aching member taking up the bulk of his mind. He was so far spun out, he had no idea which way was up.

"You selfish, all-encompassing _prick!_ " the Master spat. "Do you think this is about _you_?"

"No," he gasped. Another yank--the tendrils and the voice of one mind.

"No, _what,_ " came the response, dark and dangerous as he'd ever, ever heard.

"No, Master," he nearly fell over the words.

"Good boy. Now, be quiet." The grasp loosened back to bearable, fixing him in space. His only orientation was the pull of need swirling down and through and out of him in the one place screaming for touch, nerves lit up like a lightning rod in the middle of an electric field. 

"Oh, now that's a sight, isn't it River?" said the Master. "I do believe you've made him weep. Look at that, one glistening pearl."

He only imagined River's smirk, as he imagined the pre-come pooling at the tip of his glans. He bit his lip, stilled his breath as he imagined River taking him in again, her tongue sliding and slicking and tasting. His cock bobbed even as the Master admired it. "That is exquisite. We should leave that be for a bit, see how long he can keep it that way."

As if in agreement, the TARDIS' psychic link in his mind pulsed and then suddenly dimmed, and the Doctor fought back a gasp. Stifled translations swirled around his psyche instead: _touch, press, run, hold, please, please,_ and he nearly begged his ship to give them an outlet. She sent back a burst of static that flared white against his closed eyes. When it dissipated, it left unshared sensations still massing against the choke of the link, and every part of him aching.

"Back to it, River," the Master ordered. "Anywhere but there; I'm still enamored."

River's hands splayed over his thighs, palms and fingers flat against his skin, traveling up and around the base of his cock to his stomach. Her tongue followed, lingering at his groin, her face and hair brushing the side of his shaft, dizzying and close. She licked at his balls, sucking and teasing them down into her mouth. The tendrils in the wall behind them shuddered.

"Oh, good girl, River," the Master panted at the Doctor's ear. "Ah, yes, that deserves a reward. What do you think?" When the Doctor hitched a breath, the tendrils tightened. "Answer me," the Master warned.

"Your--" the Doctor answered obediently and immediately despite the halting words. "Your call, Master."

The Master chuckled at his ear. A touch brushed his temple, and the Doctor opened his eyes to see the avatar's bone pale wrist at the corner of his view--ephemeral, sunk partly into his cheek, suit jacket and all. But the Master's fingers aligned with the the TARDIS' physical tendrils, and again there was the phantom impression of _contact_ , stirring temporal senses into the miasma of sensation under his skin. He closed his eyes but there were still flashes of sight--the tenacious, impossible psyche of the avatar bleeding into him. The Master watched them hungrily--River working his balls like delicate eggs, one after the other inside her soft, warm mouth, her cheek pressed to his thigh, pooling desire to his unattended cock as it stood out, straight and purple-hard. The sight of it through someone else's eyes crashed into the constricted link to his ship, a deviant contradiction of violation and intimacy. 

"A reward," the Master crooned. A blink--a flash--and through shared senses the Doctor watched the tendrils snake up from the floor, twisting like vines around River's calves and knees, twining into the damp curls between her legs. Metal caps brushed and thrummed against the nub of her clit. Her hands tensed at his waist; held fast to the floor, she moaned and sucked harder at his scrotum. The wall behind them writhed with her, and more tendrils dove into her as the others worked her folds. Her breath was urgent, hot on his skin but she never stopped licking and sucking as the shudder of silent orgasm took her, blind pleasure whiting out sight and sound in their collective consciousness, and dissipating away to darkness. She released him with a gasp into the darkness, and nearly fell against his legs, her tongue lapping up toward the base of his cock again.

"You want another taste?" the Master asked. 

"Please--" River said, breathless, grasping at the Doctor's hips, but the avatar interrupted.

"Not yet. My turn."

The psychic link pulsed again, re-awakening electric desire throughout the Doctor's senses. Tendrils snaked up the wall, brushing his legs and buttocks. They were still warm and slick with River's juices as they probed his own entrance, stretching him with blunt pressure. His hands curled to fists; the need to clench and thrust and come all stalled and stilled against the restraints that held him fast. The grip on his temple shifted--the avatar was melting into the wall behind him, the Master's psyche overlaid on the TARDIS' touch, all encompassing behind him. He spasmed as they entered him, full and thick and hard, rooting deep inside him and starting up a rhythm that pulsed in time with the psychic link. 

He'd been ordered to silence but couldn't stop himself; he shuddered and cried out an ancient plea into the warm darkness, translations shocking and jolting nearly incoherent down the link in time with the thrusts into him. The Master was a veneer of Time and Contact painted across the endless and incomprehensible depths of his ship, strumming and fucking him from behind with the combined power of both of them, building and building against the throbbing link in his head. Held fast, his mind screamed against the dampened link: _now, now, now, please_ and he knew he couldn't release, couldn't come until she relented. 

"Now," the Master's voice echoed everywhere, and River finally swallowed him up again. Her nails scratched into his waist and he couldn't care, couldn't think past the bewildered amazement of how he'd forgotten about the urgent need suspended in his aching, abandoned cock until this very moment. Tension wound exponentially higher around them. River sucked him hard and greedy, her hands circling his base and driving him, faster and faster; the Master pushing harder and thicker inside him; the TARDIS' tendrils clenched and tensed in the wall behind them and the floor underneath them, coiling and coiling until he screamed at all three of them, not wanting to stop and unable to keep going. 

The link opened up again at that instant: swirling translations gathered up and shot through to the deepest part of all of them, then reflected and exploding outward, washing over them, shorting out everything else in pure ecstasy. The Master emptied him out and he erupted into River's mouth with a sob, feeling her orgasm intermixed with his own, feeling the TARDIS' tendrils convulse all around them, pulled taut to the brink of breaking before finally releasing every part of them at once.

The avatar blinked out of existence in a flash, and they fell into soft, cradling darkness.

***

The room was slightly brighter, slightly colder when they blearily awoke, their bodies still intertwined. The TARDIS sang in the back of their minds, happy and fulfilled as always, ushering them out to go clean up and fix tea.


End file.
